With Scars of Despair
by CheeryEmo
Summary: Loneliness is never an easy emotion to combat. Especially when the victim is on their own in the battle. Canada is a nation, and sure, he is strong. He's certainly more durable than any human, but that doesn't mean he's completely resistant to overpowering illnesses such as depression. Canada's determined to find a way to cope.


**Disclaimer: Hetalia and it's characters do not, and never will belong to me.**

 **Also, this story contains self harm. For those of you who are sensitive to such content.**

 **Another fair warning: This is a one shot based off of the story, "An Injured Soul". If you haven't done so yet, I recommend that you read the other story first, since this one shot does contain spoilers. If you aren't interested in the story this one shot is based on, or just don't care about spoilers, that's fine as well.**

 **As always, reviews are much appreciated.**

* * *

It didn't take Canada too long to realize that most nations didn't notice him, or care for his existence. He was physically about five years of age when he finally became aware of his curse. The first time Canada ever met his brother America, it was something he looked forward to, but also feared. Since France was the only nation he really spent time with as a colony, he had no idea what to expect from his brother. It was all a very intimidating situation for Canada, but none the less, he was still somewhat eager to meet the American. Then after seeing America for the first time, Canada realized that the whole event was not as joyful as he thought it'd be. He was extremely disappointed by the fact that his brother only held an interest in him for a few seconds before becoming bored. For the rest of that day, young Canada tried his very best to entertain himself, but to no avail whatsoever. It was the first time he ever felt such loneliness.

Of course, young Canada still had France, and that was enough to satisfy him. Eventually, Canada realized that he didn't need friends, as long as he had the older nation to accompany him, but all good times had to come to an end, as so it seemed. After the American revolution, England decided that he needed to make his empire more powerful. The result: he ended up stealing Canada from France, and claimed him as his own territory. It was a devastating time for the young nation, all the British empire seemed to care about was keeping his control over the colony. Other from that, Canada went completely ignored.

At last, the young nation finally gained his independence, and became a country. However, the achievement soon backfired. Canada realized that no other nation cared or recognized him as a nation, not even France. At least, that's how the Canadian felt about the whole situation. The pits of loneliness that had formed one by one while he developed, finally grew into nothing more than an isolated void in his heart and mind. The agony from his desolate life was almost unbearable, but Canada knew he had to cope somehow. After all, it was almost impossible for nations to perish, and as long as his nation was doing well, Canada knew that he had to find a way to combat his loneliness, but it wasn't easy.

There were many strategies the lonely nation had tried out in order to fill in the empty gap that consumed his spirit. Nothing he tried however seemed to work. Sure, there were times when a solution would help him out for a short while, but there always had to be some negative situation that only made Canada more miserable. Then eventually, the quest for exhilaration became hopeless for Canada. That was, until one day the nation would never forget finally came.

It was his birthday, and Canada didn't even bother celebrating it, since every nation was more interested in his brother's birthday. What Canada loathed the most was the fact that his brother's birthday came four days after his, and yet every nation noticed America's day of independence before his own. If any nation remembered Canada's birthday at all, that is. Not only was the day depressing for Canada, but something about it terrified him. He could no longer feel. He could no longer cry. Worst of all all, Canada had become nothing more than an empty living shell, and somehow that was more painful than agony itself. The nation refused to accept such a fate, so he decided to find a way to feel again, and this time, he would take more extreme measures in doing so.

All it required was a simple glance at a razor as Canada realized, _What if this numb feeling is the result of an imbalance? I've felt so much emotional pain throughout my existence, but physical pain….sounds quite nice actually._ Canada made sure to lock the bathroom door in case Kumajiro decided to barge in on him. He didn't want to disturb or worry the polar bear. Then, he grabbed the razor, and slowly dragged the blade through his pale skin, hissing as a sudden pain stabbed at his nerves. At first Canada was pleased to see the crimson liquid pour out of his wound and drip onto the floor. Although, it didn't take long for the nation to lash out in a sudden fit of fright, which caused Canada to fling the razor as if it suddenly burned him, and he began to sob. The whole situation was traumatizing to Canada. Never in did the nation think that he would go as far as cutting.

When Canada finally stopped crying he glanced at the razor, _Wait, this can't be too bad. After all, I can now feel, so maybe I should do it again._ Slowly, he approached the razor, before he finally swiped it off the floor, and washed the blood off. Once finished, Canada resumed to slicing into his bare arms, that was until the physical pain was too much for him to handle. After cleaning off the razor once more, Canada mumbled, "Well, I guess I'll have to clean and dress my cuts. It'd be terrible if they became infected."

The process was a painful one, but it was worth it for the Canadian. Since he didn't want an infection to give away his secret. After rolling down his sleeves, Canada whispered to himself, a smile made itself present on his face for the first time in years, "Maybe there is a solution for my despair after all."

* * *

A few years passed since Canada began his grim habit. At first, the nation enjoyed drawing blood into his skin, but slowly, the pain became nothing more than a necessity. The task of self harm was just a chore now, a tedious one that kept Canada from losing his mind from all of the depression. It wasn't all too terrible, eventually Canada was able to spice his secret sport up. In doing so, he added burning, bruising, scraping, carving hurtful labels into his skin, and even went as far as to carving a huge X into his chest. Canada's favorite part about his hobby was the fact that no one had found out, or as he believed, ever would. He also believed that there was no way anything he did was unhealthy. At first, Canada was slightly suspicious that he was unstable for doing such things to himself, but eventually, the self harm began to feel equivalent to an antidote. There's no way something as savory as a cure could be toxic.

The one factor that Canada did not enjoy so much about his hobby was the fact that he hardly had the opportunity to perform his self harm. There were a few occasions when the nation would become anxious beyond belief, and had absolutely no way to vent do to his priorities. A few times, during the rather extensive meetings, Canada would begin to have a panic attack from his lack of stimulation. France was the only nation that would help Canada through the panic attacks, but the younger nation assumed that France was just trying to reduce the distraction from the break downs.

Canada, much to his adversity, was participating in a world meeting. One that every nation knew would be going on for at least four to five hours. That alone was enough to make Canada on edge, but by the time that only three presentations had been completed, the nation cracked. On instinct, Canada dashed out of the conference room in panic. Many of the nations began to freak out when they saw what seemed to be a door slamming on its own. France thought they were being ridiculous, since he knew exactly what was going on. Therefore, he announced to the nations, in order to stop their screaming, "I'll go see what's wrong with Canada, just continue the meeting without me."

A few nations questioned who France was talking about while others tried explaining to him that there was no nation called Canada. France ignored the responses he received. He didn't care if he had permission to leave, he just wanted to make sure Canada was okay.

Meanwhile, Canada had rushed into the bathroom. Not caring about whether the door was locked, or not. Taking out a knife he had managed to smuggle, the troubled nation quickly rolled up one of his sleeves and began to frantically cut into his arms. Somehow, the Canadian managed to find a blank space on his one of his abused forearms. Feeling much more relaxed now, Canada began to think, _What would be the perfect word to describe me?_ After a few moment of thinking, the nation finally settled on a word. First he carved in a N, then an O, after that a T, then an H, I, and N. As Canada carved in the last letter of the word, which happened to be a G, he mumbled, "Nothing. I'll always be nothing as long as I- AH!"

Canada shrieked when the knife slipped deep into his flesh. A bit too deep. Panicked, he tried his best to cover up the wound, but it was to no avail. Bright red blood continued to squirt everywhere in the bathroom, and it was coming out too quickly for Canada to process, but there was one thing about the whole situation that was definitely obvious to the Canadian. He cut an artery. Soon, the nation grew more exhausted as a pool of blood continued to grow all around him. Canada's vision grew blurry, _No. It can't end this way. I'm not ready to die._

Then Canada thought he heard a loud gasp. Looking in the direction of the noise, he saw a figure running towards him, but was too out of it to know who it was. He felt someone catch him as he fell forward, and then everything went black.

* * *

Slowly, Canada began to wake up. Although his eyes were already partially open he still had to wait quite a while for his vision to procrastinate from dark and blurry, to the best quality of eyesight his blind eyes could muster. Due to his lack of sight, the first thing Canada noticed was that his glasses were off. The second thing he noticed he noticed was that someone was sobbing right next to him. Since he couldn't recognize them, he asked the person, "Excuse me, but are you alright?"

Immediately, the sobbing stopped as he felt someone put his glasses on for him. After a few seconds of adjusting to his improved vision, Canada glanced at whoever happened to be next to him. Much to his shock, it was France. After a moment of silence, France finally spoke, though his voice was shaky, "Y-you've been unconscious-for almost three days."

Canada didn't know how to respond, leading to yet another moment of silence before France continued, "I'm so glad you're a nation. If you were a human, you would've died. Just-"

France stopped for a moment, as if he was trying to stop himself from breaking down in tears. Then he snapped, undeniable panic present in his voice, "Just why would you do this to yourself!?"

Canada flinched, then faced away from France. Regret and shame present in his face. France continued, with control over his voice once more, "Seriously Mathieu. Do you really hate yourself this much? To the point where you would push a blade through your skin? You could've told me you weren't feeling well!"

Bowing his head, the younger nation murmured, "I'm sorry. I didn't think you cared. That's why I began to cutting myself. If I knew how devastated it would make you, I wouldn't have done it."

"Of course I care about you, Mathieu." France replied, as if the fact should've been obvious. Then he held one of Canada's hands in his own in an affectionate way, and added, "Promise me you'll never do this again."

The two nations stared into each other's eyes for a quite a while before Canada finally broke the eye contact and cried, "I don't think I can stop!"

"Why not?" France inquired, completely confused by this response. At first Canada was reluctant to explain, but then he choked out, "I just can't stop it! I've been doing it for a few years now, and….and it just controls me now! The pain just feels so good and- I'm just so scared!"

After the sudden outburst, Canada curled up into a quivering ball, hugging his legs, and hiding his face as tears violently poured down his face. Carefully, France pulled the younger nation into a tight embrace, making sure that he didn't screw up any of the I.V.s or reopen any of Canada's wounds. When the frightened nation flinched at the touch, France soothed, "Hey, it's okay mon cher. You don't need to be scared."

Suddenly, Canada nuzzled his face into France's shoulder. The distressed nation just really needed the warmth. His speech was muffled as he wailed, "I don't want to die! Please don't let me die!"

"Don't worry Mathieu, I'm not going to let you die." After Canada had stopped crying he continued, "I'll make sure that you can get over this problem."

Finally, the younger nation made eye contact with France once more, and said with as much confidence as he could muster, "I promise to stop harming myself."


End file.
